


To Walk Through Fire

by EmeraldEyes8917



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bullying, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Harassment, LGBTQ Themes, Protectiveness, Something to bear in mind this Pride month, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-14 20:28:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19280581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldEyes8917/pseuds/EmeraldEyes8917
Summary: When one of her interns breaks down following choice encounters with an older superior, Anthea takes it upon herself to protect her young charge and send a very clear message.A few brief mention of physical harassment and threat of outing an LGBT person so take care if this is a trigger.





	To Walk Through Fire

There were days when she felt like a mother, or rather, a dutiful aunt.

Protective. Fond. Firm, but kind. A defender of those whom she was responsible for, their guardian and mentor, someone they could ask advice of if ever they were in need of it.

She had not frightened anyone yet, and for that, she was immensely grateful. It was never in her mind to be a superior who made people afraid to even knock on her door. Her interns were akin to nieces and nephews, a group of young people that she wished to teach them the necessary skills for longlasting careers in the civil service as well as imbue them with goodness and decent qualities before the world decided to eat them up. It was the smallest thing she could do in the face of a world gone mad.

However, it would be one isolated incident that would cement her status as a stalwart defender.

Following several meetings and conference calls with ambassadors from around the world, some several hours behind and another three hours ahead of Greenwich Mean Time, she was catching up on paperwork in her office, a cup of coffee and her phone her only companion.

A cautious knock on her door, and after she calls out to the visitor to enter, it quietly opens to reveal a young woman in a grey suit and cream coloured blouse, looking around the edge of the door tentatively.

"Miss?"

She looks up from the file she was reading with a pleasant smile. "Yes, Helen, please come in."

Helen Waites closes the door behind her, crossing the room and taking a seat opposite her desk, fiddling with her watch, not yet meeting her eyes. There is a moment of silence, the ticking clock steady in the background, when she does not speak.

Anthea sits foward, clasping her hands and asks gently, "Helen, is there something the matter?"

The younger woman makes an audible gulping noise, "I... I don't know... I really don't think it's my place to say, I may be overreacting, which is fairly common for me..."

 

Her laugh is slightly high-pitched, as if she were about to burst into tears.

Now she is very much concerned. "Helen, you know that you can talk to me. Whatever it is, we can sort it together."

Helen's smile is grateful, but it does not quite reach her eyes which are suspiciously glassy.

"But it's not my problem, Miss... it's someone else and I'm really worried about them, but they should be the one to ask but I know that they won't and it's just so unfair and.."

The girl rambles on for several breaths, and trails off into a fit of sobbing, bending double and sobbing on each intake of breath.

Anthea comes round the desk immediately, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Hush, hush, it's alright. Take a deep breath in and tell me if you can. Breathe, Helen, nice and easy..."

Helen does as Anthea asks, managing to just about compose herself, before she wipes her eyes, her hand visibly shaking. "It's... it's Darren."

"Yes?" 

Her mind's eye conjures up a tall man with hazel eyes and a charming, crooked smile, who never came to work without a tie, who used Iskahoola Point font to type up his memos and had a penchant for iced coffees on Fridays.

Who needed a Mind Palace when she had a Mind Filing Room.

"Yes... he's been working a lot lately on a big project at the Foreign Office to do with trade regulations and he's doing so well... and I know it's stressful, but ever since he's taken to work nights there, he's changed recently. We used to talk before the weekend, about plans for a show or if we were heading home to family, but now he just seems so withdrawn. He snaps at people for the most absurd reasons, and I asked him yesterday if he wanted to get lunch in Covent Garden and he called me a boring busybody and to not talk to him again. I thought we were friends, but I must have been wrong."

Anthea takes all of this in, wanting to comfort the young girl but also get the facts as straight as she could, "Helen, I am sure that this has nothing to do with you as a person. It seems clear that something is happening with Darren to do with work, and I think you are a better friend than you give yourself credit for, by coming to see me, you are helping him."

Helen nods, her eyes glassy from unshed tears, before she tearfully admits, "He looks so dejected, it's breaking my heart, and he won't talk to anyone, not even the other guys in our section. He's just isolating himself from all of us, and it's not like him at all.  
He's just.. I think something's happened that's made him change. I don't know how to talk to him anymore, because I'll just make it worse."

Anthea does not reply to her for a moment, thinking this revelation over.

"I will talk to him. Leave it to me.. now dry your eyes and get yourself a hot drink. Your tasks can wait for an hour or two. You can let Pierce know that I've given you some time to decompress, just in case he wants to crack the whip again."

She gives Helen a gentle wink which makes the girl lighten up immediately, "Thank you, Miss. I hope you can help him, he might listen to you. Please, please just help him."

 

One hour later..

The conversation with Helen still fresh in her mind, Anthea reads surveillance memos while awaiting her next visitor, who was not speaking with her entirely by choice.

A loud rap on her door.

"Come in."

Darren Rutherford walks in, his eyes on the floor, and saunters over to sit in front of her desk, looking quite bored and not at all ruffled at the fact that he was summoned to her office.

Maybe they truly were not afraid of her. Whether that was a positive or a negative would be for another time. 

"Ah Darren, thank you for seeing me."

He shrugs, scuffing the carpet with his heel. "I've got a deadline, Miss, I can't be late."

Anthea waves a hand before shuffling her memos in a relaxed, unhurried manner, "I know. You've been extremely diligent this week. I've made a few calls, do not worry about that for now. I would like a few minutes of your time without professional distraction."

His eyes flash in annoyance, but he checks himself straight away.

She folds her hands on the desk, looking at him levelly with a pleasant smile.

"Now Darren... I like to think that you and I have developed a good professional rapport, wouldn't you say?"

He looks disinterested, glancing at his watch, to the window, the filing cabinet, but not directly at her.

Speaking completely from memory, without even having to glance at a personnel file, "I seem to remember you being diligent, studious, with an academic approach to your work. I would also describe you as bright and willing to learn."

The young man makes no reply.

"But... recently, I have noticed on your new assignment that your attentiveness is slipping, as well as your team participation..."

Darren swiftly interjects without missing a beat, "I work better alone, I learned that recently. I just like being on my own." 

Softly, softly now...

"I agree. Solitude can be soothing, but cutting yourself off from those around you, who have professional respect for you, is not a healthy way to work."

A barely concealed scoff, "I get my tasks done. I don't hang around, and I am not sub-standard."

"No one is disputing that."

He speaks quite brashly now, almost cutting her off, "Then what is this for? If I've made a mistake somewhere, tell me straight out and I'll go rectify it, instead of this tiresome dancing about, because I don't have time for this."

Her expression becomes steely, "Darren.. remember who you are speaking to."

Rarely does she have to employ this tone of voice when speaking to one of her interns, but this was clearly a unique occasion.

Darren bites back, "I'm not stupid, I know who you are, and I am entitled to speak my mind."

"I am speaking to you because there is concern about you, and you should be more caring about those who call you a friend."

He appears almost petulant now, "What do you know? You don't know anything."

Argumentative, slowly building to defensive. Something was indeed wrong...

She leans forward, not looking away from him for even a second, "Darren, I only want to help you. Now I have been speaking to your colleagues and reviewing your assignment file, and in the last four months, there has been a significant change in your attitude, and I only want to find out why, especially if it affects those around you, and more importantly, if it is reflecting badly upon you. I want to help you."

"Everything's fine." His tone is flat, his answer much too quick.

"Okay, then. But trust me when I say this, that unless you demonstrate a degree of maturity and desist in lashing out at your workmates, then you will be re-assigned, is that clear?"

Darren's face immediately crumples, and he turns his head sharply, visibly biting down on his lower lip and clenching his fist.

"Darren?"

He makes a small noise.

"Darren, please tell me what's wrong."

"I... I can't... you won't... no one will believe me... I can't..."

Speaking around the lump in her throat, she quietly whispers, "You won't know until you try, Darren. Tell me,please?"

At this gentle statement, his body appears to unwind, as if he had been holding himself rigid in the few moments they had been talking and was finally permitting himself to relax.

His voice has withdrawn until it is a bare whisper, "I... I don't know that I did... I don't know how it happened..."

"Tell me."

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and his head hanging low as he begins to recount the tale, and she prepared herself to listen, "I was assigned to the Foreign Office four months ago... it was such a great opportunity, I knew I had to make an impression, that I had to do well, not just for myself, but... but for everyone, and to prove that I'm capable... and the senior official contact in the office regarding trade regulations is... it's Oliver Enright.."

"Yes, I know him." 

Twenty years experience, a veteran of the Foreign Office with a specialty in European Union law.

Darren appears to grow steadily more tense as he continues, "So... I started working with him on this assignment, often late at night because that was the only time he had after all the other stuff he had on during the day, and I asked him a lot of questions because I wanted to do this right, and he was actually really helpful. He didn't ignore me or dismiss me, he was.. nice."

He pauses to lick his dry lips, "But... but then, one night, about a month after I was assigned to him... I was working on a file and I... I was only being diligent, making notes to make sure I didn't miss anything and I wanted to ask about a point of EC law... but when he came to stand beside me, he put his hand on my back and pulled my shirt down a little... and he said that he was straightening out the crease... but he kept his hand there for longer... and it made me feel uncomfortable but I didn't say anything.."

Anthea remains silent, though she feels her mouth going dry at the insidious direction this story was taking.

"This happened a few times... that he'd touch my arm or... or I'd be reaching up for a file in his office and he'd be standing right behind me... like breathing down my neck and... and it really shocked me, and he just said that we were friends, and this is what real men do... and he thought I was attractive..."

Darren's face had become paler and paler the more he spoke, his shoulders hunching as if he was closing in on himself.

"It became so bad, that I would not turn my back to him... or... or bend over or reach up for a book or folder in case he came up behind me... and... about six weeks ago when I told him to stop touching me, to stop coming so close to me, that it wasn't right, that he was making me so uncomfortable... he said he'd tell everyone... he'd tell everyone I was gay, because he could tell that I was, because I was so... beautiful to look at."

He retches and she half rises from her seat to go to his side, but he raises a hand, "I'm... I'm fine, Miss... just... I need to finish this... I... I ran away from him that night and I've never felt so afraid of a person in my life... and I love this job, Miss. I don't want to go, I can't fuck this up when my parents have helped me and I can't put them through it. I... I don't want to shame them because of what I am... I just, I just..."

And with that, he bursts into tears, hunched over with his hands pressed to his eyes. 

She does not hesitate in coming round her desk, leaning down to him and putting an arm around his shoulders, saying quietly, 'It's alright' over and over. 

Outwardly, she is kind and comforting. Internally, was a completely different story as a screeching beast of protectiveness was rearing its head, but she had to be strong for Darren in this moment. To bottle up such torment and to expel it so quickly was patently harrowing for him.

"Darren... just breathe.. breathe... it will all be fine, we will set things right. Firstly, I am transferring you to another department. You can finish your work tomorrow right here in the office, finalise your report and I'll sign off on it. You will get due credit on what you've achieved and researched so far. We can talk things over better in the morning after you've had a good night's sleep. You are not to go to that man's office ever again."

Darren lifts his head, stricken, "But... but what if he... ?"

With the greatest composure of authority, she firmly states, "He won't. He will not come near you ever again. You have my word. I'll let you in on a secret... I can be very determined when I want to be, and this will be resolved. I promise you that, Darren. You will not have to be afraid anymore."

With that word, Darren allows himself to lean into her and weep freely. There would be no more judgment or weight on his shoulders, she would make sure of it.

 

Darren left shortly after, with the solemn promise that he would not go home alone, but that he would make an effort to socialise with his colleagues, and phone his mother to speak to her, about his sexuality, about work, or even about anything that would take his mind off what had happened.

He had apologised profusely for his behaviour and she had shaken his hand and given him a gentle hug before he left.

As soon as she was alone, she sat at her desk, hands flat on the wood in front of her, eyes downcast, unseeing, feeling nothing but anger burning white hot in her veins.

It would only be a matter of time before she did something extremely rash.

With a shaking hand, she dials her desk phone, and in a cool voice, "Could you send Mr. Enright to my office as soon as possible please? It concerns a recent assignment, there are some points I wish to firm up on... yes... well, as soon as he is off the phone, tell him that it is an order and that he is to come to my office now, without even the slightest delay, is that understood? Thank you very much."

She hangs up the phone, or rather puts the receiver down with such force that her pen holder rattles.

The next twenty minutes are spent pacing her office, looking to the ceiling, pausing to put her hands on her hips, shutting her eyes as she tried to bear down on this seething rage. She resembled a caged lioness preparing to maim a prize hunter for wounding one of her cubs.

Just try and play games with me, Oliver... just you try... come and try that with me...

As the clock chimed for the hour of nine, Oliver Enright strides into her office, with an expression that spoke of his ire at being summoned in such a fashion. Whether it was because she was a woman or a high ranking official was neither here nor there.

"Miss Anthea, I presume this is a matter of urgency, it is highly inappropriate at this time of night to even phone my office and..."

"Sit down, Oliver."

"I beg your pardon?"

She was clearly not in the mood for playing the mannerly game, "I said... sit down. /Now/."

He does so with an indignant air, unbuttoning his suit jacket and visibly blustering.

"Now then... you will not be here for very long, and I am only going to speak these words once... so you are going to keep your mouth firmly shut and you are going to listen."

He raises a finger resembling a sausage rather than a human digit, "Now see here, young lady, that tone and that attitude is unbecoming of a woman, so I suggest that you be more polite with me, or else Mycroft Holmes will have a reason to dismiss you or anyone of your little interns..."

Unfortunately, Mr. Enright does not reach the end of his tirade, the word 'interns' being cut off by a strangled grunt, as Anthea swiftly leans forward, taking hold on the end of his tie, yanking him across the desk, and swiftly jabbing a letter opener through the material and a stack of papers, leaving him gasping and choking half sprawled across her desk, flailing helplessly to free himself.

Anthea leans down until she is eye level with the older man, lacking no trace of compassion in her eyes.

"I told you to be quiet... so here is where you have ended up. You do not listen, do you, Oliver? Not when someone tells you to be quiet... or when someone tells you to stop touching them when you clearly make them uncomfortable."

Mr. Enright's complexion reddens and he tries to push himself back from her, but he cannot back away from her. He cannot escape what is coming next. 

Her voice is soft, almost silky, and the anger is simmering beneath every word she utters next, "I know about what you've been doing with Darren. He told me himself after a colleague saw how much he was suffering. He sat in this office and told me about your behaviour, that you made advances towards him, and that you would have him fired because of his sexuality. That was disgusting, it was low, and it was frankly offensive. Now I will only say this once... you are to leave Darren alone, you are not to orchestrate any means of dismissing him, you will not expose his sexuality because that is none of your damn business. Do not step foot near Darren, or any of my intern workers again, if you even look at them or breathe the same air as them, then you are finished. I care not about what you do in your bedroom, that is entirely up to you. But the men and women in this establishment are off limits. You do not make them uncomfortable, you do not blackmail them, you do not drive them into isolation, you do not strike fear into them to make yourself feel powerful. You are a pathetic excuse of a human being, and mark my words, if I even hear a whisper of anything inappropriate involving any young person working in this office, you will wish to high Heaven and all of the saints that you had never met me, because I will find you, and cut something off that you will dearly, dearly miss."

To punctuate her point, she pulls forcefully on his tie, causing his eyes to water. "Is that /clear/?"

He manages to nod, sweat beading on his forehead, spluttering at the constriction around his windpipe.

"Now get out of my office, you waste of human flesh, and rest assured, you will not be darkening these doors ever again."

With that final word, she wraps her fingers around the handle of the letter opener and pulls the blade upwards, releasing the tie and he pitches backwards violently, knocking the chair behind him to one side, gasping for breath, effectively scrambling to leave her office and to not incur anymore of her wrath, not even daring to look back as he effectively flees.

Still with the letter opener in her hand, Anthea tilts her head to one side, speaking to an invisible audience, or perhaps to her conscience, "Did I take that too far? Perhaps I did."

Placing the thin blade back in its rightful place in a drawer, she sits back down, lifting her legs up onto the desk and crossing her ankles. "It was a rather nice tie to put a hole through..."

She allows herself a small chuckle, gazing out the window, and saying a silent prayer, making a solemn vow of affirmation that as long as she was walking the corridors of the British Government, no young person would ever be made to feel excluded because of who they are.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story many years ago possibly in a reaction to bullying and harassment of the LGBT community, particularly in public and in the workplace. With Pride month drawing to a close, I thought it was a good chance to bring this subject to the fore once again, not just for June but for all year round.
> 
> It was also a chance for a character study of Anthea, to see how she would react to such an incident, regardless of gender or sexuality. It was an interesting exercise and I hope that I did the subject justice.
> 
> As always, please comment and leave kudos, it always means the world and thank you for reading.


End file.
